Mother's Day
by CarsGirlsandMusic
Summary: Inspired by the movie. Just a sweet one-shot.


**So, I know Mother's Day is done and dusted and everyone's probably counting down towards Christmas… but I watched the movie and just felt inspired. It's still women's month, does that count? Enjoy!**

* * *

 _09:02AM - New York City_

Squinting through bleary, puffy eyes, her brain registered the time on the digital display of her phone. A quick calculation confirmed it would be too early for them to phone. Let alone be up. Or remember.

Tears attacked her eyes for the umpteenth time, reminding her why she felt so groggy to start with.

She had trouble sleeping lately. And when she couldn't sleep, her brain just never shut down. It wouldn't even _try_ for her, just to catch a break despite the lack of sleep.

She turned onto her stomach, one arm reaching toward the emptiness of the queen sized bed. The other lifted her phone again.

One minute had passed, and still… _Nothing_.

This was the first year that they were not together on this day. She wondered how other people handled it; be it for work responsibilities, death, or divorce…

She swallowed a couple of times, trying to keep the lump down and tears at bay.

It was never supposed to be this hard, being away from them. It was even worse being on the other side of the country. To her it felt like it was the other side of the world.

She stared at her phone, urging the minutes to pass by quicker. But, like the slow drizzle outside, the minutes were unrushed, taking its time to move on during this weary Sunday morning.

She released her phone from the light grip, letting it drop flat onto the white, empty nightstand. The emptiness was what was killing her. Emptiness, silence, solitude. It was too much for her.

Which was so unlike her. There was never emptiness in her life before, and she could cope with solitude and used to love silence. Silence and rain and cold mornings in bed.

But that was before…

Before she moved to LA. Before she met her. Before she came out. Before her life changed. And changed again. And again.

Now it felt like it would never quite stop - the changing, and having to adjust or get left behind.

This particular change was painful for her, and she wished she could go back in time and reverse it. Change her mind. Choose _them_ over _this_.

Instead, she got dealt with more changes, ultimately leading up to this lonely, cold morning in New York City, and she had no choice but to adapt and accept the consequences of her choices.

Except, she _hadn't_ adapted yet, and she doubted that she ever would. And how could she, anyway? They were her life.

* * *

 _06:03AM - Los Angeles_

The dust had already settled. There weren't supposed to be any dust at all, but desperation led to rash decisions which led to a now empty townhouse, soaking up the early sunrise all by itself. Summer was amazing in LA. But it just wasn't the same this year.

Reminders that it was still occupied by a half functional family was strewn around; surfboards dangling on brackets on the wall outside, inflatables and swim trunks and two sets of bikinis scattered on the patio next to the pool. It was a concerning scene; as if an apocalypse had interrupted a pool party. There wasn't a soul in sight, yet it looked like they had just stepped inside for a couple of minutes.

Inside didn't look any better.

The kitchen was clean, almost untouched. No surprise there.

But everywhere else there were signs of human activity just a couple of hours ago. Pizza boxes littered the dining room table, all stacked neatly in the surrounding chaos of homework and a pile of record deals and contracts.

Off to the side, leaning on the wall connecting into the living area, were two electric guitars, still connected to the Xbox, the oversized flat screen TV flickering with a paused screen of _Rocksmith_.

Felix, the rescue mutt, had taken the opportunity of the abandoned house and curled itself up on the side of the couch belonging to its missing owner. It missed her presence, and often sulked and begged to be allowed to bask in her fading scent. Sometimes they let him, other times they fought among each other for that sacred spot.

Upstairs was like a war-zone. While the small hallway was clear of any obstacles on the floor, the walls were heavily decorated, _cluttered_ , with an abundance of family photos and framed achievement awards.

The girl excelled in music. She was an outstanding musician, her heart set on her prized violin, her ultimate goal… Juilliard. While it was no mystery where that particular trait came from, she was also a fairly hard working student, the handful of subject awards pleasing the ever loving but sometimes pushy grandmother.

The twins were something else. One was a carbon copy of his mother in every sense. The other, while a carbon copy in looks, took more after his other mother, and strangely, his uncle. He loved sports, he was a prominent basketball player, loved girls and attention just as much, and like his older sibling, he wasn't shy with musical instruments either. At times it was just too easy for the house to be divided.

The bedrooms reflected the sometimes clashing personalities perfectly.

Pristine but dark; black walls - against both parents' wishes - setting a beautiful contrast to the largely white-framed monochrome photographs. Taken and printed by none other than her talented mother. Her bedspreads were white, sporting the screen printed sheet music of the very first song she'd ever written. A sixteenth birthday gift from her other mother.

She loved them both dearly, the proof of their happiness sitting on her nightstand in the form of a family photograph, taken exactly one year ago…

The older twin's room was the worst. The white walls were completely hidden under layers of pictures. There was no sense of consistency or any thought to color schemes. Basketball heroes, bikini-clad females, and the occasional band poster created a nauseating kaleidoscope of color. Piles of magazines - providing an endless supply of centerfolds for the walls - were scattered everywhere. It was an unspoken theory that other types of magazines were skillfully hidden in between. While the continuation of chaos bled onto the desk and bed and finally, the floor, there was a small corner in the room where everything was perfect. His acoustic guitar sat neatly in its stand, an empty stand next to it, generally housing one of the electric guitars that were now downstairs. A small sheet music stand was just off to the side, the collection of Nirvana songs open on _Where Did You Sleep Last Night_.

A photograph was tucked neatly inside the book, a reminder of the happiness his family of five experienced just a year ago.

The younger twin, making his presence known sixteen minutes after his brother came into the world, considered himself a movie buff, and self-proclaimed expert on anything photographic and film related. At the tender age of thirteen, he could already see himself following in his mother's footsteps. His dreams and aspirations were beautifully displayed in a well-kept, nerve-wrecking tidy room. Much to his entire family's dismay, save for his mother who continuously reminded him how proud she was of him.

Go figure.

They tried hard not to choose favorites.

But with two dominating Davies bloodlines against one shy Carlin, they didn't really give their parents a fair chance.

Despite it all, there was an abundance of love in that household.

The proof was on the younger twin's wall, an imitation of a movie poster, but with his happy family as the actors. He dubbed it _Mother's Day_ , reminding him just how happy they were one year ago.

The master bedroom was simple. Purple walls, because they could. Purple bedspread and black pillows, because she could.

One side of the bed was untouched, for a while now. The other side was unruly, covers pulled back, as if the occupant left in a hurry.

A gigantic framed black-and-white covered the hole where a TV once hung on the opposite wall. A pianist, sitting on the bench, pencil in one hand, slender fingers of the other hand covering an octave on the slick baby Grand. Her naked body wrapped only in a thin silk sheet. Hair tousled. Features soft. A woman in love; writing a love song to the one behind the camera. Initialed _S.D_., a Mother's Day gift, one year ago.

* * *

 _09:04AM - New York City_

She blinked slowly, tricking her brain to think she was falling asleep.

But sometimes, like now, she hated how her brain was one clever organ.

It refused to grant her any rest, not fooled by the sharpness of small raindrops peltering against the large window. Her eyes were too in focus to fake the exhaustion she so clearly felt.

Tears burned her eyes, finally blurring the dreary sight in front of her.

Emptiness.

Her heart ached painfully in sync with a dull throbbing emanating from her skull.

She turned on her back, deciding if counting sheep didn't work, perhaps she'd tire herself out by trying to count the tiny blocks on the white ceiling boards. She found it ironic that this overly white decorated room could make her feel so dark and gloomy.

Any room, that wasn't the familiar purple, with the oversized black-and-white photograph of a beautiful half-naked brunette, made her feel dark and gloomy.

She hadn't been in that room for a while.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about it. Her. Them.

It was just too hard.

Her hand reached out towards the nightstand, gripping her phone for the umpteenth time. She sighed when she realized that only one minute had passed.

Her finger itched to unlock the screen, her heart pounding at the knowledge of what the homescreen image contained.

A happy family of five, taken exactly one year ago.

Things were different this year. Painfully different. She swallowed hard and decided to go through with the torture.

Her eyes were instantly wet with tears as her gaze trailed over each one of them, wishing so desperately that she could see them in real life, hear their voices.

But it was early there, too early. They were known for sleeping in on Sundays, no one ever got up before noon. She didn't know where she would even be in six hours.

This entire day was just… ruined. And she had no-one to blame but herself.

She allowed herself to focus on the picture one more time, her eyes immediately drawn to the brunette. It was so painful she could hardly breathe. But she kept staring, willing her memories of that perfect day to replay, like an old movie reel, over and over again.

She was in such a daze that the warning vibration wasn't enough to alert her of the incoming call.

When her phone lit up and blared a rendition of her eldest's first ever recorded violin solo, she dropped it in shock, wailing out in pain as the device landed right in her face.

It kept ringing, thankfully, until she could get a grip on herself, and the phone, to answer.

"Hello?"

" _Mommy?"_

"Carly? Why are you up so early?"

There was a brief pause, and she felt her mother-instincts kicking in. Something was wrong.

 _"_ _Can you open your door?"_

She sat upright. This just made her worry more. Her daughter sounded distraught, and close, and - _what on earth was she doing in New York?_

She jumped out of the bed, blonde mane a mess, eyes red and puffy, but her mind razor-sharp. Padding barefoot towards the hotel room door, her hand reached for the handle, the other firmly holding the phone to her ear.

"Carly, where are you?" Her voice cracked under the pressure of anxiety and twelve hours of crying.

 _"_ _Can you just open the door, please?"_

Spencer didn't like this one bit. Her teenage daughter sounded distressed and she still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that Carly could possibly be in New York, at the hotel she was staying in, right at the other side of her door.

She yanked it open anyway, ready to protect her firstborn from whatever danger she was in.

It turned out Spencer was the one who needed protection; either to guard her already fragile heart, or her body that was suddenly wrapped up in a massive family hug, squeezing the life out of her while they yelled _Surprise!_

The shock didn't wear off until they were discreetly moved inside, each child kissing her and hugging her with a _Happy Mother's_ _Day_ whispered excitedly into her ear.

At last, the stunning brunette stepped closer, holding her at arm's length, allowing for a brief moment to give each other a once-over. It was customary, ensuring the other was unharmed, and in one piece.

Spencer flung herself into her wife's arms, tears running down her cheeks for the millionth time.

But this time they were happy tears.

"I missed you so much," she cried, holding on for dear life.

"I missed you too, Spence," Ashley murmured into her ear, revelling in her wife's scent. It grounded her, reminding her that this moment was real.

"Smile for the camera," Brody announced, hardly giving them time to look presentable.

Though they wouldn't turn this particular photo into a mural, the moment captured was still special. Through tears, disheveled hair, and stained cheeks, the genuine happy smiles was what counted.

The shock finally completely wore off, giving Spencer a chance to fire away with the multitude of questions racing through her mind.

But Ashley knew her wife far too well, and promptly lifted a finger to her lips to pause the curious blonde.

"Get showered, we're taking you out for breakfast. I'll explain then how this crazy plan came together."

* * *

"So the house is well… the kitchen is clean. A couple of things are a little out of place. But we'll clean up, I promise."

Spencer laughed heartily, knowing full well what Ashley's version of _a little out of place_ was. One look at their children's faces and she knew she'd be going home to a disaster zone.

But it hardly mattered. All she wanted to do was go home.

"So, how did everything go? Was the shoot successful?"

Ashley was also a master at changing topics.

Spencer smiled, taking in every little detail she could about her family. Next to her, Brody sat listening carefully, ears perched to catch every recollection of her experience while filming a scene for her new upcoming documentary.

Across from her, next to Ashley, was Carly, paying some attention, but her focus was mostly on the notebook she had open in front of her, working on her latest new solo.

Brian sat next to Carly, his attention solely on the basketball game coming to life on his phone.

They were typical teenagers, and for a fleeting moment Spencer remembered when she was that age.

Her life couldn't have turned out more perfect than it was right now.

She dragged herself back to the present, her heart racing as her gaze landed on her wife. She still couldn't believe Ashley had gotten their entire little family up at 2AM, just to catch the earliest flight to New York to surprise her.

Her own flight home got delayed the previous day after heavy rainfall and flooding hit New York. And while she was sulking in her lonely hotel room, her impulsive wife kept a careful eye on weather reports and airport status, jumping on the first plane she could just to keep up the tradition of Mother's Day celebrations.

"The shoot was a lot of fun, definitely successful, but I really can't wait to go back home. It's been the longest three days of my life."

Ashley nodded in agreement. "Oh, believe me, I know the feeling."

* * *

"I can't believe it's been a year already."

"I _know_. It's crazy. In two months she'll be back here, living her dreams. Hopefully Juilliard will be kind to her."

Ashley looked at the photograph in her wife's hand, smiling tenderly at the fond memory of Mother's Day, one year ago. Their little family of five smiled happily at the manager of Hard Rock Cafe NY, while he snapped away to get the perfect family picture.

Soon there would be only four of them - Carly was on her way to college, while the twins would be moving on to junior high. She was sad that their daughter would be moving across the country, but at the same time, she couldn't be more proud.

"Juilliard will _love_ her. With _my_ talent and _your_ brains, she couldn't be more perfect, Spence."

Spencer chuckled. "Don't forget the _ego_."

"Hey! You love my ego!" Ashley exclaimed, throwing in a pout before attacking her wife with tickles.

Spread out on the cool tiled floor, already exhausted from the early morning summer heat, Felix grunted at his owners' antics. They were far too excited so early on a Sunday morning. A sigh escaped him, knowing they'd soon head back upstairs, leaving the couch for him to claim back his beloved spot.

"Happy Mother's Day, Spence," Ashley said, clinking her coffee mug against her wife's.

Spencer smiled, leaned in, and gave her wife a heartfelt kiss. "Happy Mother's Day, Ash."


End file.
